


I Think You Already Know My Name

by of_dreamdust



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Human Castiel, Hunter Dean, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-11
Updated: 2014-07-11
Packaged: 2018-02-08 11:01:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1938456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/of_dreamdust/pseuds/of_dreamdust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Dean meets Cas instead of Cassie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Think You Already Know My Name

It was a Friday night and he should’ve been out like any other guy of his age, looking for someone to hook up with, drinking endless beers and smoking cigarettes. Instead, Dean Winchester was sitting in a cheap motel and bleeding.

Well, not exactly bleeding. He had stitched himself hours ago, but it still freaking hurt. The room smelled like cheap whiskey, smoke and rotten furniture. There were pieces of paper everywhere, on the floor, table, nightstands and bed, paper from food and newspaper articles and who knows what else. There were still traces of blood in the bathroom sink and clothes on its floor.

Dean couldn’t quite say this kind of life bothered him. It wasn’t an ideal life, it wasn’t life anyone would choose, but he got used to it. Just as he got used to hunting alone by now. Just as he got used to doing everything alone.

It was just that he was tired. It had been a second wendigo in two weeks and those fuckers are hard to manage when you’re all restless and healthy, but they are even harder when you’ve been driving for more than three days and still haven’t quite recovered from that freaking shapeshifter two states back. So, yeah, he’d earned himself a nice big cut on his side and he was pretty fucking tired. And his clothes really immediately, like, alarmingly needed washing. He came down to a size too big t-shirt and muddy old jeans because those were only two things that didn’t have holes or traces of blood all over.

He cursed under his breath, picked up some clothes and took his car keys. He won’t get any sleep, adrenaline still rushing through his blood, so he might as well do something useful. He’d seen a little launderette just at the end of the street and he hoped it was still working.

He drove slowly so he wouldn’t miss it.

Street was filled with young people rushing somewhere; girls in tight skirts and boys with funny haircuts, some of them with cigarettes or bottles in their hands, laughing and yelling and enjoying. He looked at them and thought of how it would be to be like them, to have no bigger concern than the big final next week or the red-haired girl from your class. Maybe he would like a life like theirs. Maybe it would be nice to be young and feel young and not to know all those things he’s known since the age of six.

He saw a small building and pulled nearby. Maybe one day; right now, he was too tired to even be bitter. He picked his clothes and with a familiar creaking of the car door headed for the launderette.

It was warm inside, maybe a little too warm, small space filled with smell of clothes, washing powder and something else, something you couldn’t quite define but it was there. It was empty except for a guy sitting on one of the washing machines at the end of the room. He was holding a book in his hands and didn’t bother to look up from it.

Dean eyed him. He looked young, somewhere around his age, slim and somewhat shorter than him, with dark ruffled hair. He was wearing a white button-down and jeans. The book seemed a little too big in his hands, but he didn’t seem to mind. His blue eyes were too focused on the words in front of them. But damn, he looked good.

Dean coughed as he opened one of the machines and threw his clothes in. Nothing. He came closer and leaned on the machine. “Hi,” he said.

The guy looked genuinely surprised to see him standing beside him. He blinked once, his eyes wide. “Hello,” he quietly pushed out.

“Studying?” Dean nodded towards the book.

“Um...yes...” the guy swallowed.

“It’s Friday night”, Dean said, looking straight at the guy’s face. He looked _really_ good. “Shouldn’t you be out partying?”

He raised his eyebrow. “Shouldn’t you too?”

Dean let a soft laugh. “Yeah, well... Not in the mood, I guess.” He reached his arm. “I’m Dean.”

The guy closed his book and took it. “Castiel.”.

“Castiel, huh?” Dean straightened his back, feeling the stitch on his side pulling lightly. “That’s a nice name.”

“Pretty unique, I know”, he shrugged. “My parents had a weird taste.” He turned slightly more to Dean, but didn’t put his book down. “I haven’t seen you anywhere on campus or...”

“Oh, no. I’m not from here. I’m just passing by.”

Castiel nodded. “And doing laundry on a Friday night?”

Dean laughed. “Look who’s talking.”

Castiel shrugged again. “Well, I’m stuck here for a while, so I’ll have more opportunities to get drunk on cheap beer. Right now, I should study.” He gestured to his book and opened it again.

“You could pause one night”, Dean said.

He looked at him again and almost, _almost_ smiled. “If I had a good reason, I’m sure I could.”

“Is a couple of not-so-cheap beer good enough?” Dean raised his eyebrow.

“It depends on company”, Castiel said, that small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Dean opened his mouth to say something, but the beeping sound of one of the machines stopped him.

Castiel closed his book again and slide on the floor. “It would probably be my pleasure to do so, but my laundry is done and I must get going.” He pulled his clothes out of a drier and put it neatly in a bag, Dean eyeing his background from the back of his neck to the curve of his ass. He turned around, smiled politely, and looked Dean straight in the eyes. “So I’ll just wish you a good night.”

He headed for the door, but Dean stopped him. “Don’t I get a phone number or something?”

Castiel smirked at him again. “I thought you were just passing by?”

“Well if I’m promised a beer, I’m going to stick around a bit more.”

Castiel nodded. “Alright, then. I could use some drink too.” Then he turned and stepped out.

“And the phone number?” Dean yelled after him.

“There’s not many Castiels in town, even the less on campus. I’m sure you’ll find me somewhere.” He smiled again and closed the door, leaving Dean in a really heated room.

**Author's Note:**

> I may or may not write a sequel.


End file.
